I was hanging with my good friend Allie (sometimes we called her "Al", but she always smacked us hard for that) on a typical, boring Friday afternoon at our state college. The two of us were half-watching "Braveheart" for the twentieth time (with the volume turned down) and talking about whatever hit our minds. Allie was curled up on my bed, next to the sofa where I lay, and our heads were only separated by a good foot or so of space.
"So who do you think is sexier," Allie asked me, "The peasant girl or the princess?"
The corner of my mouth twisted up in a grin, "Oh, the peasant girl, definitely."
Allie leaned up on an elbow, "How come?"
I thought for a second, "Well, she has great eyes and a wonderful throat" (a notorious weakness of mine) "and doesn't have to hide under robes and makeup to be beautiful. Plus, she's the only one who bares her boobs in this movie."
I said the last to half-infuriate Allie, and got a flick to my head as a response. Allie and I were good friends, both mildly attracted to each other, but that was about it. Allie had a fiance, and I wasn't him. I think Allie valued me more as a friend because I didn't shun her since she was taken; the value of friends in my life was equally important to love interests, or more so. Besides, it took a lot of the pressure off of being together, and we could flirt, give each other backrubs, and even curl up together occasionally without feeling guilty (her fiance went to another college). I always openly admired Allie's body - she had the best looking legs I've ever seen on a woman, and some nice curves and a great smile to go with it all. I think, given half the chance, I would love to make out with her, but the guy honor code held fast. If there's another guy, then hands off.
We shared details of our love lives to each other, and it was very educational to learn what a girl thinks from her point of view. The honesty that flowed between us strengthened our friendship continuously.
"Mark's coming up this weekend to visit me," Allie said, somewhat neutrally.
"Cool," I replied, using the same neutral voice. "So what are you two lovebirds going to do?"
She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe go out to dinner or something, but he seems like he's really in the mood to do some serious making out. Guess being away from me this long does that to him."
"Does it to us all, babe," I grinned. "So, you don't sound so excited about that, huh?"
"Kind of. I mean, I really love the kissing and rubbing and stuff, but every time he keeps wanting to go farther. Last time he wanted me to give him a blowjob."
I raised my eyebrows. "Did you?"
"Yeah - I licked and sucked him for a while, but it didn't really get him off. And I wasn't too turned on at the time. I ended up jerking him off; he came all over my pink sweater. Glad that stuff washes out."
I sat up and looked at her. "So, are you just scared to do it again, or not excited enough about it, or what?"
Her eyes refused contact with mine, and her voice kinda lowered. "Part of both, really. I don't feel like I know what I'm doing. . . and I'm not pleasing him. I also wonder if he wants to do it to me. And there's just something missing about it all."
"Sounds like you need a lesson in giving guys head," I said lightly, trying not to make her feel that embarrassed about it all.
Instead of answering, Allie asked me a question. "What do guys like it when they get head?"